Lores of Heart

Feel as many feelings as you might want to for that is
what it is all about.

And when you're in your twenties,
And quite not sure where you went wrong,

You can still run into my arms,
We can watch the sun set for a while and just stay silent

if you want but,
Don't toughen yourself up for it only breaks you a little

more from the inside.
And by your thirties I might be just too tired of living,

But that does not mean I am not going to be there for
you after I am gone,

You can still cry in a pillow
I will still plant a kiss on your head and whisper into

your ear – Honey it is okay.
Just remember that I have loved you even before you

have happened to me

84

The Hollow
Bukowski taught me to do it
Only if it came naturally to me,
Vincent ate the colour yellow just to make himself

happy,
While Tagore was busy trying to convince himself -

Everything is alright.

I lost my grip all of a sudden out of the blue
And I saw myself fall into nothingness,

My only company being an engulfing and blinding
darkness.

Insanity to the sane is madness
But for the lost ones is the only way of living.

Dear society,if you were a living being
I would have been long behind bars by now,
Yes, you would have been dead for centuries by now,
For I have never despised anyone as much as you,
And your pricey possessions describing a path already

curved.

85

Nikita Nair
Nikita Nair is all things in one badass woman. An artist, a
dancer, a writer, a YouTuber and the most savage person in the
room with the kindest heart. If you don't find Nikita on her
couch, watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S, she's probably hiking up a
mountain in the middle of nowhere.

86

2 Days

If I cut you, would you bleed?
Would it drip down,
stain the carpet red,

Like my blood did the sheets?

If I despair, would you leave?
Would you walk me home,
be my shadow, like you did,
Like you always made me believe.

I'm sitting in the light,
But it feels like a hollow darkness.
Contemplating questions, wishing for things I don't

expect.
But hope would happen.

For love isn't something you feel,
Unless it is shown to you.

87

Unlike loneliness, which humans feel keenly,
Except for a chosen few.

Everyone is just looking out for themselves, they might
not even know it.

To placate their greed, anger, addiction & hunger.
Then why am I the one, sitting all alone & mum.
By the side of a busy road, waiting for a call to come?

I feel oddly serene, perched up on this pedestal,
But at the same time my mind is fighting a war with

itself.
Do I be selfish? Do I unleash my terrible ways?
But then again, let's just forget it. I'm leaving in 2 days.

88

The Storm
Dark and cold seems the world,

not as much as my mind.
The rain falls hard on the ground,

but I'm content, I find.
Why does the storm seem pleasant?

Like a century old wine,
Like dew drops on a flower,
Perhaps because it reflects thoughts mine.
Silencing the rushing ideas,
My thoughts all wild and frightening.
Thunder rolls through the sky,
Brightens it up with lightning.
Why do I love the weather, you ask?

Raw, fierce and severe.
For it quells the storm within,
Worse than my mind t'would appear.

89

Nilanjana Banerjee
Nilanjana Banerjee is a collegian, pursuing Honours in English.
Keats, coffee and cheese are necessities to her. She pours her
feelings in writing, most of which are impromptu. Her
experimentation with words began when she was fourteen. She
had been trapped in a writer's block for four years until oneday
when a door of inspiration was opened to hereby an unknown
Muse, waking a side of her creativity that was asleep for eons.
Nilanjana finds solace in the fact that her words can finally
speak instead of remaining confined within the bounds of her
mind.

90

Fairytale

I look into the mirror,
And I wonder and I sigh.
The beauty of my lost youth

Now tends to dry.

My smile was worth a million dollar,
And I had lovely dimples.

That smile has now departed and
My face has embraced wrinkles.

I used to walk in beauty.
I used to walk with grace.
My appearance was something
That could make the hearts race.

Now, when I look at the young lasses,
I recall my pretty past.

91

Then suddenly I realise that
Dreams don't ever last.

That glowing skin is long gone,
And now I look so pale;

Youth has bid goodbye to me,
It is now a fairytale.

92

Lap of the Sky

The soothing breeze kissed her cheeks
When she sat under the sky.
Far away, amidst the stars

She spotted him when he passed her by.

The first drop of the late night drizzle
Fell on her cheek before she shed her tear;

The wave of air flew by her lap
As she gazed at the night sky so clear.

Sweet her child slept on the lap,
His soft, tender skin as sweet as rose.
Only the lap was not hers, but the sky's;
Him on her lap was now a part of the prose.

93

Nisha Halder
Nisha is currently a 12th student. She is an animal lover, she
loves to learn by herself. Her hobbies are cooking wired food and
reading books.

94

The Colour of Her Heart

It makes me wonder
Sometimes what would be

the colour of her heart?
Is it the red, like all, because of the blood?

But, I sincerely doubt
That's because she's got too much rage for it to be red.

Is it blue for all the despair she's got?
But her occasional real

laughter might have tinged it with green.
Or is it black for all the darkness she's engraved within?

It might, but she also has a bright streak of hope.
Sometimes, I am sure it's white for being so much cold

hearted,
But it also has an orange flame that gives me the

warmth.
Is it colourless for her being indifferent sometimes?

95

But the hues of her emotions emerge.
More I think, the more puzzled I get.

But now I know, for sure,
What is the colour of her heart,
It's a rainbow, the most beautiful one.

96

N. Sihhah (Rhyea Shah)
She’s a 20-year-old Malaysian who dreams to be a writer; or at
least to publish her own book once in her whole life. Her passion
for writing had developed since she was 14 when journaling was
her favourite pastime. She loves to write poems and quotes. To
her, writing is the best way to express her feelings better than
saying them aloud. She desires to inspire, motivate and reach
people’s hearts through her writings. She can be found on
Instagram as @queenshah_ & @as.sihhah09 (personal acc).

97

Fade

I write our names on the sand, but
It got washed away by the waves
I trace my finger on the foggy glass

on rainy days
But the droplets wipe it in seconds, erasing everything

Even the writings in the old diary
Are now hard to be read

Some things just easily vanish
But not my feelings

No matter what I did or what you say
How much it hurts or how hard I tried to forget

The feelings are still there
After so many sleeping pills,
Tearful eyes and restless nights
The feelings I had for you still exist
Even when now the memories are foggy
I can still hear the beat of our love

98

That once lived.

Keep Shining
They don't see your light
because they are not lost
Keep shining; to the world
They will only see your light

when they need it
But when the time comes,
you'll no longer need them
Keep shining; to the world
You don't need someone who only sees your light
When they're in the dark
You need someone who sees you in any situation
You need someone who shines together with you
Brighten your light when you shine
And shines you when you're lost
Keep shining; to the world
Until you found that someone.

99

Paree Punnj

"If you could encapsulate her into one word, she'd simply be
"poetry" because there is no word out there more complex, more
raw and more beautiful to define a soul." A Chartered
Accountant by qualification, Paree embraced writing
wholeheartedly when it became the biggest stress buster for her.
Currently working as the Head of Content for an interactive
storytelling app, Paree spends most of her time adding to her
kitty of over 200 short stories and poems, all while being the
Creative Head of an online writing community. She has also
contributed to 2 anthologies, while relentlessly following her
passion.

100

My Blue Diary

I had a little blue diary
Where I often penned
My troubles, my glee
My dreams and hopes
And then, one fine day,
Like a gust of wind,

As fierce as you,
Came along,

Flipping the pages,
To one I never knew
My diary would ever have.

Then started a new chapter,
Perhaps I should call it

101

Our new adventure.
Your madness,
My surprise.

Your love for k-dramas,
My delight.

Before we knew it,
I found a best friend,
The sweetest little pill
The craziest confidant.

Now you've replaced
That little blue diary,
You've now become

My favourite secret keeper
With a soul, fiery.

Every moment with you,
Forms a special memory.

A bond so strong,

102

Bestowed on the lucky.
To be loved and cherished

Forever and ever

With just right amount of
Your sweet heart

And passionate soul,
I hope you always get
Everything you ever wish for
Even if it's a fangirl moment coming true.
On your special birthday,
I also make you a promise
To always be there for you

As your very own,
Little blue diary.

103

The Street Light

Sitting under the street light
With a book in her hand
On the corner of the street
That reeked of poverty,
Helplessness, and hope
All at the same time,

She wiped the tear before it hit the ground.
Twenty years later,

She walked down the same street;
This time, not barefoot,

This time, she let the tear fall,
Onto what was no longer
A barren, accursed land,

For with the black robe on her shoulders
And one black cap with a thread
On her head
She brought education here again,
She brought humanity here again.

104

Paroma Dey Sarkar
Paroma Dey Sarkar, 20, is an ex-Pointer currently pursuing
Bachelors in Mass Communication from St. Xavier's University,
Kolkata. Being a free thinker, she likes breaking norms and
exploring the unexplored. An ardent observer of human
behaviour, she tends to question the status quo. This has moulded
her into a debater and a film critic. The clarity of her thoughts
and her ability to articulate well is reflected in her writings as
well as speeches. An ambivert, she is a classic old school romantic
who finds peace and comfort in her dream world. She mostly
loves spending time with herself and indulging into music, art,
photography, reading and of course, writing.

105

The Misunderstood Slytherin
I once knew a boy with white blonde hair

and a pair of cold grey eyes.
His pallid skin, his figure tall & slim

made him look sharp and wise.
In his stride there was a sense of pride, an air of

superiority,
for he was a snob who since birth was taught the

importance of blood purity.

A filthy lad, unpleasant, unfriendly,
a spoiled old brat, the typical high school bully...

Born in a family, rich and malign,
"Wait till my father hears about this!"

was his favourite line.
He was proving to be a typical Slytherin,
a malevolent wizard, unkind and cunning.

But beneath this git hid a vulnerable guy.
Silently I saw him cry.

106

I saw all his happiness slowly drain.
For the first time I saw pain

in silvery eyes that weren't cold but tender.
He turned more pale and slender.
His pointed face had lost its sneer,
all I could see was utter fear.

I won't deny, it made me surprised
to see him in a dilemma being pressurised.
Afraid of the Dark Lord but still unwilling,
his hands trembled at the thought of killing.

His life was at stake,
with no choice to make.
He didn't wanna let his family name ruin but he also
didn't have the heart of an

assassin.
Left with no friends by his side
unlike Harry he had none to confide.
With no support he had an inner battle to fight.
Calling him a filth was not right.

107

His true character came to light
at the Malfoy Manor that night.
It was a golden chance he could put to use
but despite that he chose to refuse.
Despite all those years of rivalry
he tried his best to save Harry.

Instead of the usual scorn
in his eyes there was pure concern.
He wasn't bound by friendship or other obligations,
it was totally his conscience and realizations.
That night he did something I didn't expect,
it was since then that he earned my respect.
While the world hailed the heroes for their win,
he taught us to fight the evil within.
Harry knew he had to be the hero,

he had a guiding light.
But he was raised to be the villain,
it was his own ones he'd have had to fight.

He faced all sorts of difficulties

108

and assumed an adult's responsibilities.
But unlike the bravest Slytherin we all knew

his part might be praised by just a few.
But to me it's not an easy task for a 16-year-old to wear

that mask.

People may loathe him for the choices he made
because as Dumbledore once said,
our choices show us who we are,

not our abilities or to whom we're born.
But he showed us that not all people
have the options to choose from...

So I once knew this boy.
His name was Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.

109

Pritha Dey
Pritha is a vibrant daydreamer, keeping her feet on the very
reality. She is a believer. An art enthusiast, she loves enjoying the
little moments with huge interpretations. She is simple and
admires simplicity. You can find her penning her soul out at
@prithaaadey over Instagram. Xoxo

110

Love

Let's fall in love for the night and forget in the
morning— for I am a nyctophile and the night sky looks
like a tapestry of diamonds that I would like to adorn my
walls with. By the morning, I am a lesser someone, a
lonely scintilla trying to submerge my hungover self in
the ocean of my uncertain miseries. ...

They would say, love is a four-lettered drowsy
fairytale heaving out a garden of roses with thorns at
intervals and that the arms of your lover are your
permanent asylum. But darling, love is a pandora box.
And I understood it a little too precisely when I saw my
father with teary eyes, under a canopy of clouds sitting
on the edge of vulnerability and murmur, ‘I love your
mother very much,’ right after a disruptive squabble. He
is but an unrequited lover. ...

I could see him wearing a blindfold fabricated
with my mother's gifted wounds and sermonize me not
to go blind in love. Perhaps love is crying together yet,
separately. And, I understood it a little too precisely,
when I delved into it myself. On days I am blessed by
Aphrodite and, on days I sigh a woven curse where
sempiternal solitude seems my only escape. The arms of
my love feel like a chaotic cage and his lips, a
painstaking kiss. With every passing day, I crave for
lesser "I love you's".

...

111

Let's fall in love for the night and forget in the
morning— for I am a little drunk on insomnia, choking
on painted cigars and puffing out words garnished with
tragedy. And every time the sun goes above the horizon,
I like stroking his face with mine and counting the moles
for; I am never tired of stargazing.

112

Priyanka Bhandarkar

Priyanka Bhandarkr is a postgraduate in English literature from
the Karnataka State Open University. She holds a Certificate in
Food and nutrition from the Indira Gandhi National Open
University. She also hasa Diploma in Creative Writing in English
from the same. She was born on 24/12/1985.She loves reading
books. She resides in the Temple Town of Udupi. She believes that
there is no substitute for hard work. Her favourite book is The
Monk Who Sold His Ferrari by Robin Sharma. Her Favourite
author is Ruskin Bond. Her favourite line is A Thing of Beauty is a
Joy Forever by John Keats. It explains about the Metamorphosis of
life. She dreams of becoming a world-famous writer. She is a Co-
Author in 10+Anthology.She goes by the theory of Dreaming with
open eyes. She believes in Staying positive and advices the readers to
Never Give Up inLife.

113

Strong Mercy

My Desire to conquer evil, a lease of mercy, an urge to
obey God.

Thou boundest me with pleasure, a unknown path of
daily worship

To plead to God, thy creation to reach the sublime, an
idea of man.

The sun glorified it's presence to the harmony of nature,
a horizon.

Thou hath to accept my innocence which you gave me as
a gift

Thy would beget service from man day to day, an
obligation to plead

Thy mankind hath lay before you problems of the past,
future and present

A mercy to God to protect us from the third-eye of
nature, a truth

With a creator to listen mankind has a Earth to live but
not to conquer

An Earth to conquer man reconciles, the merciful arm
beneath man.

Thou art giving mercy to all, held unto task

From the perils of life to escape, to live

114

The depth of my heart has many desires unknown to all
The amount of work I do leads me to purity
To forgive my own desires God doth decide.

By and by I come closer to worship humankind.
The idea of such a virtue demands justice
To ask for rewards worship is required.

So brought to me is a guided soul of divine incarnation
A magic line divides me from the perils of hell

Day to day there increases a desire, to yearn for God
To give life to another, to perceive the truth of almighty

To get divine grace is a strong attitude of mercy.

115

Silent Steps
A cup of wax to hold little drops of rain
A signature of life, the nourishing water

As it comes, comes, comes
Not a better language, an idea to shower bliss

A complete independence to mankind
The idea of man on more than one purpose

A silent catastrophe with silent steps
Any time be it day or night, an old copy

The human race making no sound;
A first cry To Grow up, a silent knowledge

Such steps of silence make rain
The Sky is falling on our heads
An idea known to our silent forefathers
The present silence knowing little steps

It is raining.......
A common sense to animals
An Evolution, it comes......
A smile on thy face, a nature that beckons

116

The silent move of the wind, that which comes
An immortal mind, the symbol of a human
My heart sings thy glory, a kind of Joy

The nurture of a child, a reward given from worship
To know the emotions that rekindles a human, a satire

An indication that gives a reason for independence
A tiny footstep here and there to achieve success

A voice that cannot be heard.
The innocence......... To be great one must learn.

117

Rajoshree Sinha

As a writer, Rajoshree tries to convey exactly what she feels
through words. "Words, being mere as they are, also hold great
power. I try to remain true to myself as I write. To me, it is very
important that the words I write truly resonate with me.
Because words once spoken can't be taken back. Because
carelessness is not an option.", she says. Born in a small part of
West Bengal, India, Rajoshree has grown up loving art, in its
numerous endless forms. She wrote her first poem when she was
12. That was when she realized that this was the way she
wanted to show her art to the world. "Everyone has art in them,
just different ways of expression." "Inspiration can be found
anywhere - in a painting, in the clouds, looking at a tiny bug, a
good evening coffee with blue and grey playing in the
background, anything at all. I believe, in this world, there are
infinitely many ways to conclude something, none of which can
truly be said to be wrong." Find her at @rash ionality.

118

A Map of the Soul

Today as I sat amidst nature in the heart of the mountains,
all of my old memories came floating back to me. I thought
about all the mistakes that I made on my way, all the things
I realized too late, everything I failed to say. I thought back
on all of my stupid fights, reasonless arguments, baseless
promises. I thought back on all the things I lost on my way
and the little things that I picked up, managed to protect
and savour. Then a thought came to me, what if I had
known? What if I had realized just a bit sooner? Would my
life have been different from the way it is now? Would my
broken sand castle still be there? Would my fate be
different from now? But somehow I could not imagine an
alternative from today. I wondered, if my fate had been
different, then maybe all of my things that I hold precious
today would be gone. Maybe they wouldn't exist the way I
know them to. But, then again, wouldn't I be fine with that?
Because, if that were the case then I wouldn't even have
known the things I hold so dear. So then, could I live out
another fate without wondering the same thing over and
over again? Would I be able to survive any differently in a
different fate? A fate that I had embraced, a fate that hadn't
been mine, a fate that I would know to be mine. I know that
these words are just meaningless that won't even be a
memory to someone else. But these words are mine, they
are me. So I think it's fine to just record these this way.
After all, when I am gone, I hope my words will remain.
And through them, I, one day, hope to be remembered as
someone who was not afraid of change.

119

I wonder, a person who doesn't understand their
own self, can they ever truly know someone else? Maybe I
have been lying all along. Maybe I have been deceiving
myself but isn't that too a road on the map of my soul? The
smiling me, the me who sheds tears, the confident me, the
anxious me, the strong me, the broken me. The me who
wants to fly and the me whose wings crumbled away like
dust. What difference does it make? In the end, I am what I
make myself. Even through change, at the end of the day, I
will be me. For, I guess some things are too free to be
chained by words. These words, these thoughts that I
weave inside of me, never really find their way to make
sense at all. But still, I hold them in an embrace, without a
single trace on my face. Just like a pond whose surface
seems serene and calm but the insides writhe in turmoil.

Even as I record my words, new thoughts come and
float into the far distance where nobody can find them,
where not a soul can trace their shadow. I wonder, exactly
how long would it take me to finally be able to understand
this map of my own soul that I keep drawing every second
of my life. Would I even be able to do it in this life? Was it
meant to be done? Does it need to be done? If I could ever
achieve that, will I not be torn between the leash of the
mind and the desires of the heart anymore? Would I be able
to control the flow of this stream and make it truly mine?
Right now, as I write these words a lot of my moments slip
away, which shall never come back. Each moment I spend,
each breath I take, are forever gone with time. That is time,
I realize again. It never comes back and waits for none.
That's why I wish to spend my time with people whose
company I genuinely enjoy because I read somewhere a

120

long time ago that time that was enjoyed was not really
wasted. I have taken these words to heart. I believe that
being angry at people, holding bitter feelings, seeking
vengeance and becoming overwhelmed by such things is a
waste of time. It isn't necessarily so but people have their
beliefs, you know.

You can't smile and neither can you cry. You are
torn between the endearing peace and the appealing
turmoil. What good can come out of a life that is torn
between the fields of right and wrong? But then again, isn't
life just about that? I wish there was a path separating these
two fields. But, then again, if someone decides to walk on
such a path, would it be so wrong? When people take the
rusty path, maybe they choose to do so, but would it be too
much to believe that maybe they see just one road? But if
vengeance is the only road one can see, if one has no path
to walk on other than that, then sometimes, it might be
better to stray off into the wild and take a small detour until
another path is made. A path never starts out as a path.
Someone walks on it and lets it become a path. So if you
are faced with just one path which feels like a dead end, I
hope you can find the courage to stray off into the wild.
That way you can make a path yourself. You can let others
have another choice. That way you may see more clearly,
the map of your soul.

121

Rupkatha Dutta
A young mind who loves to appreciate the small moments in life
andlovestodream. Strivestobelievethatherstorieswillstayin
a few hearts for a really long time. A wallflower, who loves
psychology and vintage pieces of art, architecture and fashion.

122

To One of My Greatest Inspirations...

I will never be able to meet you, or hold your
hand to feel your warmth on my skin, but that will never
stop me from loving you. I saw you walking through
your darkest days with a beautiful smile on your face. I
stood far away, admiring your charisma, not
understanding what you hid behind your mask. But
today, I can feel that your smile is real. I am still
standing far away from you, but I can feel the warmth
and happiness radiating from you, sinking deep inside
my bones.

I will probably never experience what you have
gone through to be the person you are today. I agree with
you, since the creation of the universe, everything was
destined. Yet, I don't know where destiny will take us.
Even so I do know that I want to walk on the path of self
love, which you created. Maybe someday, my smile will
provide the warmth of the heart, to people around me,
just like yours.

The world is truly different from yesterday,
because today it is filled with your joy. I do not know
how long this joy will last, how long I will be able to see
you. The days I will have to spend, when your laughter
ceases to exist, it makes me scared. However, you taught
me to live my life today, so let me enjoy every single
moment of today when you exist.

Although I stand far away, my heart has moved
closer to where you stand. You were right, I can feel the

123

tenderness of this relationship without the use of words.
I held my trembling hands near my heart, feeling it beat
really fast as it stood closer to yours. I realized that the
flow of this universe is destined, and there is no point
feeling sad about the time when you will not be there.

It's been a few years since you came into my life.
Honestly, I do not remember why I fell in love with you.
Maybe because of the twinkling stars in your eyes,
maybe because your laughter is probably the closest to
heaven's bells on earth. My feelings have grown and
gone down so deep in my heart that it hurts to see you.
Yet I cannot look away, because you grow beautiful with
each passing day.

I have come to realize that there is no way I can
be close to you, or spend time with you. But I know that
you'll be happy if I took the road which you walked on,
and became the person you are today. Honestly, walking
in this road of self love is very difficult, but you told me
to be my own light. Even if it feels lonely, I will promise
myself several times that I will not throw myself away.

Thank you for smiling at me with faithfulness
and hope. Thank you for intertwining your little finger
with mine holding on to me for just a moment. Thank
you for believing in me, that I will become a better
version of me, tomorrow.

124

Ruth Banerjee
Ruth Banerjee, a 20 year old currently pursuing English Honours
from Shri Shikshayatan College. She is a bookworm, a hopeless
romantic who still believes in the concept of true love and a
complete foodie. She cares for emotions and feelings in a world
where emotions take a back seat. She is a strong believer that
whatever happens, happens only for good. She is a listener. She
likes to hear people talk rather than narrating herself. She
believes that every scar has its own beauty, and they are meant
to show off to the people and not to hide. To escape the chaos
that she often finds herself in, she writes. For her writing has
always been an inner reflection of innermost emotions and
feelings.

125

Musings of the Soul

It’s raining. Again the rain. Is she wearing her
blue jacket? Or is she dancing and doing a filmy pose?
Or is she sitting near the window sill with her knees
tucked to her chin as Ali Gatie's song ‘It’s You' keeps on
playing over and over again. I wonder what she's doing
now? But am I in the position to question that when I left
her myself.

I slumped down against the wall and blankly
stared at my wall of memories, which was filled with
nothing but her photos - her smiling photos. At this
moment it might feel that I am mentally sick but trust me
I am not. I am just a person, whose soul has left,
rendering him a living dead. I was so engrossed in my
thoughts that I did not even realize when the rhythmic
pattern of rain changed from pitter-patter to cats and
dogs. I am left alone with my rambling thoughts, none of
them forming a proper knot as I watched the rain she
loves so much silently.

Riya and I are childhood friends. We found each
other on such a rainy day, when she pulled me out of my
bubble only to sail a paper boat and the rest is history.
We did everything together. People say we are contrasts
like Black and white who got along so well. Now that I
realize it’s quite true. She is my favourite noise maker
whereas I am her little observer. I am awkward around
people while she can easily make people feel at ease. I
am the old ice while she is the warmth on a winter
morning. I go by the brain and she by the heart. If I

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judge a situation rationally then she judges it
emotionally. She is my storm as I am to hers. We can
both stay in a room, doing our respective jobs without
feeling awkward. I taught her how to play cricket while
she taught me how to sew buttons on my shirt. I fell in
love with her coffee while she fell in love with my
ginger tea. I made her fall in love with my slow music
while she taught me how to wear different coloured
socks yet not feel embarrassed about it.

But two years ago I destroyed our friendship like
a daffodil being trampled by the truck without the least
care. I wonder what would have happened if I had
listened to my heart for once and not to my brain. Would
she be in my arms now? Would she show her precious
smile while she snuggled towards me?? I felt a lone tear
roll down my cheek as I kept on falling down towards
the darkest pit. My train of thoughts were broken when I
heard the notification ringtone of my phone echo in my
empty home.

“Dude, a party tomorrow. You in?” I thought,
what’s the use, then why not it’s pointless anyway, I
texted back, “I am in.”

As people say that the most pointless and useless
thoughts prove to be the most memorable memories later
on and if you are lucky then you would have a Christmas
tale to tell. I was one of those few lucky people. I just
didn’t know it yet. Next evening, I reached my
destination. As I parked the car in front of the house I
remembered Aditi. Aditi is another High school survivor

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along with Riya and me. She was the only other person
who apart from Riya knew what I was up to and the only
one who could catch my sarcastic comments. She knew
everything from the start to how we both end up at this
point. She is the one who kept on pushing me. In the
past, if any fights occurred between me and Riya, she
would neither advice nor interfere, the only thing she did
was to make us both talk. She knew exactly which
buttons to push. Even when this happened she sort of
became a mediator. She was a living witness of
everything. Now that I think, maybe the hardest thing in
this world is to see your loved ones struggle and feel
helpless over and over again. Maybe this is why she did
it. I walked into the house filled with nothing but loud
music but before I could process anything I was engulfed
into a hug,

“You are here, you really said yes.” I chuckled as
I looked at Aditi, “Of course dummy”. Can this child be
ever less enthusiastic? She grabbed my wrist and pulled
me to the bar.

“One cocktail, please. How have you been?”

I gave her a small laugh. “Well how do you
think?”

She rolled her eyes. “Look enough is enough. I
called her here.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

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“Yes I did, and give it a proper closure you both
need and clear everything. I know it’s tough but believe
me once it’s over you will be relieved that it’s okay even
if it’s broken.”

“Where is she?” I looked around and found my
little lost daffodil. I remembered our last conversation, “I
love you as a woman loves her man.” I stood there
frozen as a shade of crimson painted her face. “I am
sorry.” For a few seconds I felt that she had forgotten
how to breathe. She gave out an awkward laugh and said
“It’s okay. Nothing will change, right?”

“Nothing will change.” That was the biggest lie I
ever told anyone because everything changed after that
night. We grew distant and eventually took an exit from
each other's lives. I am an idiot. Why did I ever let her
go even when I was practically head over heels for her
just like she was? I need to clear everything today. I
cannot go on like this forever. If she rejects me today I
will know it’s my fault and in this world I will watch
over her even if it means that I will no longer be a part of
her life. I looked outside. It’s raining again. The rain she
loves, at that moment I just knew that I cannot let her go.
I walked across the room, grabbed her wrist before she
could say anything and dragged her outside, in the rain. I
turned towards her, but before I could say anything she
slapped me on the left cheek. “Yeah I deserve that” she
again slapped me on my right cheek.

“YOU LIED!!! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO
THAT? DID YOU WANT TO MAKE ME BELIEVE

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THAT IT’S MY FAULT? IS IT SO WRONG TO FALL
IN LOVE WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND?” she yelled at
me.

“I love you” I blurted out. “I am sorry for not
chasing after you. I am sorry for hurting you so much. I
am an idiot. I am pathetic. I am a coward. But I did not
want to lose you. I was afraid that someday you will
realize that I am not the guy you imagined. I am not the
one you want. Then you will break the relationship. I
will lose you forever. But I am an idiot because I already
lost you.” I cried like anything. I looked at her as the
same shade of crimson painted over her.

“You really are an idiot. Because you are the guy
I want to be with for the rest of my life. You are
everything that I hoped for. You are nice, smart and
most importantly you make people feel that they really
matter. You think you cannot express yourself but the
way you express makes people feel at peace and so
warm. And you didn’t lose me. Even if you did, we both
found our way back to ourselves. So don’t let me go.”

I hugged her tight. I felt that if I lose the grip on
her I will lose her. I was afraid that whatever is
happening now is only a hallucination.

“I will never let you go. For two years you were always
in my mind. If I think a hundred thoughts in a day, then
ninety nine of them were all about you.”

“Then I guess I am not the only one who
suffered. You were always there in my mind. I love you.

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Please stay.” I looked at her. I found my escape from my
pit. I found my lost place. My wandering soul finally
found home. I cupped her face gently as I kissed her
forehead. Finally mine and I am hers.

“Okay, love birds come inside. It’s been enough
drama in the rain” Aditi smirked at us as we were
practically hugging in the middle of the street. We
giggled at each other. She whispered to me, “It’s raining
again. It was raining when I met you.”

I looked at her and whispered “You are my fire
to my soul, and water to my heart” and bent down to kiss
her. She blushed. Rain kept on pouring silently, a silent

witness to a new beginning as I intertwined my hand
with hers, knowing that I am never letting go of this
hand again. Maybe another storm will come, but I will
no longer be swept away by the waves because I have

her now as she is mine.

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Sahil Sk
Sahil this side. He mostly writes on the things he feels or on the
people who made him feel something. He believes words harbour
enough strengthto makeor break worlds,sohetries making his
own imaginary happy place where he is lost and hopes to never
be found. He has changed his way to perceive and write things
over time. His recent works are present on Instagram at
@in.sah.nity

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The Forever Tree

I tenderly caress my hands over the Forever Tree
while sitting on the park bench circumscribing it,
aimlessly. Forever Tree that's what we used to call it.

Ironical, how the tree remained, the name
remained, so did the memories but not the person. Over
the years I have tried to imagine every conclusion that
could possibly exist and ended up, coddiwompling to
one. It claimed that she sat over this bench waiting till
the point she became a part of the tree and delved into its
creeks and crevices.

Sounds delusional, isn't it? Every unrequited love
draws in whimsical conclusions to pay homage to their
not so profound love story. Nothing new.

My fingers still lingering over the branch like a
person under Braille asked to express his long-subdued
emotions. I finally feel a slight inscription to which my
mind underwent an emotional change resembling that of
a blind person perceiving light for the first time, to a
soldier's beloved broadcasted with the news of her better
half's death.

Athazagoraphobia to me wasn't just a thought
anymore. Sensations of rame ran through me as I found
our names perfectly fit within a heart shape adorned with
an arrow and dates saying 2015- infinite. How fragile is
the thought of infinite, isn't it? Interestingly without her

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